Time's Sublimest Target
by JeichanHaka
Summary: 16 months ago, Cam's team died while pursuing her brother as their unsub; now she's being brought in to assist the BAU, who are down three agents due to flu/colds. How will Cam's presence affect the team and can she be trusted? (Contains OC)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first Criminal Minds fanfic and only the second non-anime/manga related fic I've written. Further, I started writing this barely a month after I first started watching the show in October, so I hadn't and still haven't watched all the episodes...

 **Time's Sublimest Target**

 _Brief Summary: While investigating a case, three of the BAU members are out sick so new agent is brought in to help out._

Prologue:

"What the hell..." Cam mumbled, shutting the refrigerator door after a brief glance over its contents. Not that she was hungry or thirsty: it was an action motivated by habit. Her brain barely noticed the food packed neatly inside in plastic containers. "I shouldn't have argued...I..."

She shook her head and fiddled with the rubber-band around her wrist. Going over the conversation she had earlier with her boss mentally, she realized how unnecessary the resulting argument had been. Especially since it got her booted from their current case.

"...why did he do it?" She mumbled, opening the cupboard next and gazing at its contents. She pulled and released the rubber-band around her wrist roughly, striking her skin. Its sharp bite left a red mark and helped pull her away from negative thoughts. It had been only an argument over tactics – something that they had had before. And, she recalled, it had gotten her reprimanded when she first joined the team three years ago. But she was younger then, and in some ways reckless – it took her getting injured and having to stay in the hospital for seven months to realize how idiotic she'd been.

She took out a granola bar and started nibbling on it. Remembering how intent she'd been to improve herself, to catch up with the agent she'd met years ago...not that catching criminals or profiling were contests. She just hadn't wanted to feel useless.

She felt so now.

"Why did I argue? Now I can't help them catch that son of a bitch rapist..." Cam paused in nibbling on her granola bar, recalling her team's profile on their unsub and specifically his choice of victim: eighteen to twenty-five year old women, fair skinned and with reddish brown hair.

She cursed.

"What the hell! That's why...that..." She cursed again, realizing for the first time the most likely reason behind the argument and her being dropped from the case. She matched the unsub's type. And her overprotective team leader decided to remover her from the case. "Of all the f..."

Her doorbell and phone both rang mid-swear, distracting her. Finishing off her granola bar she answered the door – it's bell more annoying – first. All she found when she opened it however, was a single card envelope addressed to her. She heard footsteps resounding from the steps, so the deliverer was already on his way outside.

Shutting her door she tossed the envelope on her side table and answered her cellphone.

0

Chapter One:

Sixteen Months Later:

Reid opened his eyes slowly, his phone ringing insistently in the background. The sun peeking through the window blinds seemed to poke at his eyes, his head pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath at the most recent pulse of pain. Keeping his eyes shut he reached for his cell charging on his bedside table.

Throwing off his covers, Reid opened his eyes enough to check the caller ID before answering his cell.

"Hello, Morgan." Reid greeted his caller, wincing from the throbbing of his headache as well as the soreness of his throat.

 _-"Whoa kid, you sound terrible." Morgan spoke, hearing the hoarseness of his friend's voice. "Are you up to coming into work today?"-_

"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine." Reid replied, clearing his throat in between each word.

 _-"You don't sound fine to me. It sounds like your cold from yesterday got worse."-_

"No, I'm fi..." Reid sharply inhaled as he sat up, the change in position intensifying his headache. He coughed and swallowed trying to lessen the soreness of his throat. "...fine. We have that case in Buffalo today...without the dismembered..." Reid stopped talking, his throat too sore to continue his protest.

 _-"That's why I'm calling. We're about to take off, man."-_

"What?" Reid opened his eyes enough to check the time, finally noticing how late in the morning it was. There was no way to make it in time to catch the jet. He groaned. He heard Morgan chuckle on the other end of the phone.

 _-"Kid, it's obvious you're sick. Take some medicine and rest up today. I'll tell Hotch."-_

"I'm fine, I..." Reid coughed, interrupting whatever protest he was trying to make.

 _-"Pretty boy, stay home and rest. You coming in today will only risk the rest of us getting sick."-_

"Actually, since this cold started yesterday, the odds of you not already being exposed are..." Reid paused mid-sentence, his head and throat both protesting against talking. He exhaled, rubbing his sinuses. While doing so, he heard what sounded like the phone being passed.

 _-"Reid."-_

"Hotch, I..."

 _-"You do sound terrible. Take the day off and rest."-_

"But the case..."

 _-"The best thing you can do right now is get some rest and once you feel better, then you can join us. That's an order." Hotch added when Reid started to protest again.-_

"...All right." Reid gave in and hung up the phone before lying back down on the bed.

He hated to admit it, but he did feel terrible. Worse than during any of his migraines. It took only a few minutes for him to fall back asleep.

0

Ten minutes later on the jet:

"Yes, I understand." Hotch, sitting down on the jet, replied to the person on the other end of the phone. "Take whatever time off you need. Take care of yourself." He ended the conversation after mentioning the jet was about to take off.

"I take it that JJ isn't coming either." Morgan said after glancing at Hotch, then around the jet. Him, Rossi and Hotch were the only ones on-board.

"JJ and Garcia are both still sick. With Reid being sick as well, and Prentiss still on vacation, looks like it's just us."

"...Great, we're down to three agents and our unsub is scattering the dismembered body parts of his victims all over western New York." Morgan opened the case file he held, perusing its contents.

Starting some five weeks ago human body parts were found scattered across the western half of New York State. The dump sites ranging from parks and forested areas to back alleyways and warehouses. All sorts of body parts were found as well – from hands and feet to genitalia, even the scalp of one victim was found left behind a beauty salon. Every single part was severed from a different victim and all antemortem, according to the file given to the BAU.

"This is one sick unsub." Morgan said after looking over a photograph showing two eyes, each from a different victim, tacked to the trunk of a tree.

"Very sadistic as well." Rossi rubbed his temple, reading over one of the pages. "He sliced off the skin from a victim's leg, while the victim was alive. Do you know how excruciating that must have been? Not to mention how bloody it must have been." Rossi put the file down, a thought occurring to him. "...I'm amazed no bodies have been found. Some of these...amputations had to be extremely dangerous, and possibly fatal."

"You think our unsub must have medical knowledge or training in order to prevent the deaths of his victims?"

"That's a strong possibility. Another is that he has a really good hiding place where he stashes the bodies of his victims that don't survive." Rossi leaned on the armrest of his seat, his fingers scratching his cheek.

"Even if he hasn't killed one of them yet, he has to have some place where he's keeping them. Almost twenty different body parts have been recovered so far, each from a different person. He has to be keeping them somewhere." Morgan said, leaning forward and looking from Hotch to Rossi.

"The local authorities are getting ready to dredge all nearby bodies of water for each crime-scene."

"Why haven't they done that already?"

"There were very bad snow storms across the area for the past two weeks, it was considered too dangerous to search until the storms subsided. Also, many of the lakes and ponds are still frozen over."

"That's why you told us to pack sweaters and boots."

"Yes. And also we need to be careful when driving on the roads, since it tends to get very icy there, especially at night." Hotch replied, continuing after a second when he read the question on his team member's faces. "The lead investigator warned me about the weather when we spoke on the phone. Apparently there were three weather related car crashes two nights ago."

Morgan groaned, wondering why their unsub couldn't have chosen Florida or California. The ringing of Hotch's phone interrupted their data-pooling.

"Hello? This is agent Hotchner." Hotch greeted his caller. He listened to the other end, nodding and saying 'yes' and 'all right' every once in a while. "Yes. That will help." Hotch listened again, then hung up after a crisp goodbye.

"What is it, Hotch?" Morgan looked at him.

"That was Strauss. Since JJ and Garcia are still out sick from yesterday, and now Reid is, the director called in a profiler from another team to join the investigation. An Agent Fitzgerald."

"All right, we can use the help this time. When will he be joining us?"

"Apparently, she's already there, so we will meet her after we land. She was on her way back from vacation when her flight was canceled due to weather."

"...who takes a vacation to one of the cold and snowiest places in the country during the winter?"

"Agent Fitzgerald is from the area, and the director thought it'd be useful to have an agent who's a local on the case."

"Wait, 'Agent Fitzgerald'... You don't mean Camille Fitzgerald?" Rossi asked Hotch, while Morgan looked from one to the other, curious.

"Yes. That agent Fitzgerald."

"...Okay, what's it about this agent that has you two looking like that?" Morgan inquired.

"A little over a year ago, her entire team died while hunting down an unsub. She's refused to work peacefully with another team since."

"Oh man, that must be rough." Morgan began, leaning back on his chair and rubbing his forehead.

"If I remember correctly, wasn't her brother one of the people investigated as the possible unsub?" Rossi asked.

"Yes." Hotch replied, pursing his lips as the implications fell upon the group.

"...Hotch."

 **A/N: End Chapter**


	2. Chapter 2

**Time's Sublimest Target**

 **Chapter Two**

Agent Camille Fitzgerald stared into the mirror at the drops of cold water running down her face. She'd just gotten off the phone with the BAU director and her head was pounding. She was being forced to work with a team again. All because some sicko decided to decorate her home State with human body parts.

Exhaling to steady herself, she grabbed a towel and patted her face dry. Once dry, she added a bit of light makeup to cover up the bags beneath her eyes. Combing back her hair, she glanced at the hair tie on the side of her sink. Wordlessly she decided to leave her hair down and instead slid the hair tie around her wrist.

She exited the bathroom, grabbing her room and rental car keys from the hotel room's bedside table. She habitually glanced around for her service gun, only to remember that since she'd been on vacation she had left it at home. Pulling at her hair tie she softly cursed.

The text alert tone of her phone pulled her attention and she picked it up from the table, quickly checking the message received. It was from Agent Hotchner of the BAU:

 _'Agent Fitzgerald. Missed you at the airport. Expect to meet you at the investigation headquarters at the local precinct.'_

"Yeah..." Cam mumbled to herself, sending a reply text confirming the meeting location.

0

"Agent Fitzgerald? I'm agent Hotchner and these are agent Rossi and agent Morgan." Hotch greeted Cam after she entered the area set aside for their investigation by the precinct. Forty-five minutes had passed since receiving her text, though as they themselves hadn't managed to get to the precinct until nine minutes ago because of the snowy roads, he didn't fault her for being late.

"Hello." Cam returned the greeting, glancing at each of the them in turn. Her hetero-chromatic eyes roamed over the BAU members and the area around them without pause, until she noticed Rossi. She blinked, recognizing him from years ago. She refrained from mentioning it though, the circumstances of their meeting thirteen years ago not something she preferred remembering.

"Now that we're all here, we should discuss what we know so far." Hotch said, motioning for Cam to sit and handing her a case file. He continued after she sat down and started perusing the file. "So far three of our unsub's victims have been identified: Ashleigh Wilcox, Marcus Bassinger, and Anthony McMahan. Wilcox and Bassinger both had a hand cut off – Wilcox her right, Bassinger his left. Their fingerprints were able to be matched to those found on the luggage in their hotel rooms."

"The unsub would've known we could ID those two victims through their fingerprints." Rossi spoke, his gaze lingering on Cam a few seconds. "It suggests either the unsub didn't care if we found out these victims' identities or he wanted us to ID them."

"Considering these are the only victims out of twenty that the unsub left a way to identify he probably wanted us to find out their identities." Morgan iterated, skimming through the files again. "It says that McMahan was identified because his DNA was in the police database after he was arrested on rape charges two years ago."

"The unsub stapled McMahan's genitals to a tree in Rochester. That suggests he knew about McMahan's record. It could even have been personal." Rossi leaned back in his chair, clearing his throat before taking a sip of coffee.

Cam glanced through the files of the three identified victims while listening to the discussion. She read over the various body parts discovered, raising her eyebrows at the mention of the flab of skin found.

"Any thoughts on the case, Fitzgerald?" Hotch questioned, noticing the new agent's change in expression.

Cam looked up from the file, not quite startled but hesitant. It had been a while since someone had asked for her thoughts on a case.

"...the unsub carved off a patch of skin from one of his victims, which is pretty mild compared to the rest of the amputations." Cam said, her voice at first very low in volume but she managed to raise it enough to be audible around the table.

"It is a pretty mild injury compared to the others. Very precisely done as well, almost surgical." Rossi replied. "The unsub was almost meticulous when inflicting this injury."

"It's like he wanted or needed to be careful with this injury." Morgan leaned forward, his gaze shifting around at the rest of his team. "There's a possibility that this..." He pointed at the photograph of the skin slice found tacked on a power pole. "Is from the unsub himself. He could have sliced himself in order to give himself an out as a possible victim in case the police found him."

"That is possible." Hotch said. "There would've been a great deal of blood and he'd have to tend to the wound, though. Further, the precision of the cuts suggests the unsub probably has some training or experience. Possibly medical."

"..." Cam listened closely to the discussion, waiting for a break in the other agents' talking. It came when Rossi, noticing her hesitance to interrupt, cleared his throat again as though to speak himself. His eyes silently inviting Cam to speak instead. "The three identified victims were all from out of state. McMahan from Wisconsin, Bassinger and Wilcox from Maine. It's possible that the other victims were from out of state as well."

"That would explain why no missing persons reports were found for the victims."

"If the unsub is targeting people visiting from out of state, it's possible he met them all at the same place. Some place he's able to find out they aren't local."

"Western New York does have a few tourist areas and plenty of hotels. Perhaps those areas are where this unsub finds his victims."

"...the local police kept each of the known victims' hotel rooms as they were. Fitzgerald, you and Morgan check out Bassinger and Wilcox' hotel rooms. Luckily they both stood at the same hotel. Rossi and I will check out McMahan's motel room."

0

"Please don't hurt me." The woman repeated, her voice growing weak. He ignored it however, instead licking his lips as he hovered over the various knives and saws laid out before him. The table in front of him was littered with sharp and serrated blades.

He smirked, picking up a ten inch serrated knife and studying it keenly. The woman's pleading grew louder, her eyes noticing the blade.

"Please. Please! Don't..." She struggled against the rope tightly tied around her wrists and a wide pipe. "No..."

The man snarled at the incessant pleas, his bristly cheeks and squinting eyes giving him an almost wild appearance. He glared at the woman. The next moment he swung down the knife, severing a gash into her face.

The screams and blood were loud, a coppery scent filled his nose. He repeated the action, again and again, his eyes wild.

After the screams subsided, the woman lying a bloody mess on the cellar floor, he sat on the stairs. He gritted his teeth, pulsing pain coming from his left calf.

Breathing in deeply, he took out his cellphone and dialed a number. All the while glaring at the woman and rubbing his calf muscle.

0

Rossi looked through the items owned by McMahan placed around the motel room. There were no signs of a struggle or confrontation. "Nothing seems to be missing. Though it seems strange that McMahan left his cellphone but took his room key."

"The head housekeeper mentioned seeing McMahan enter his room the first day he arrived, but no one noticed he was missing until they noticed his snow covered car hadn't been driven in days."

"It's possible McMahan either knew the unsub or was abducted elsewhere." Rossi paused, looking through McMahan's wallet. "There's cash and ID but no credit or debit cards."

"He didn't bring much with him. Enough clothes for a few days at most without visiting a laundry mat." Hotch shifted through the man's suitcase, which contained little more than two shirts and two jeans. "You'd think he'd pack more considering he paid for two weeks."

"Maybe he wasn't planning on staying long but was forced to stay longer because of the weather? Or he changed his mind?" Rossi speculated, taking in the sight of the room. He coughed slightly, his throat a bit sore.

"Are you all right?" Hotch asked, studying the older man. "If you're coming down with a cold..."

"I'm fine. My throat's just a little dry." Rossi replied. "There's something off about this. This room seems staged. McMahan hadn't even touched the clothes he did pack."

"The housekeeper in charge of cleaning this room mentioned to police that nothing was ever out of place when she came in to clean."

"And she didn't find that odd?"

"Apparently there was always a small tip left out for the housekeeper so she simply figured McMahan was just extremely tidy."

"Or he was abducted on day one by the unsub and to avoid suspicion the unsub left tip money each day for whoever cleaned the room."

"It's looking more and more likely that the unsub knew McMahan and wanted to conceal that fact." Hotch took out his cell phone. "You call Morgan and have him and Fitzgerald meet us at the precinct. I'm going to see if the techs back at Quantico can find out which hotel McMahan really stood at."

"Too bad Garcia's still out sick."

0

"You're sure? You found nothing connecting McMahan to the other known victims?" Morgan asked Hotch and Rossi over the phone, the call was on speaker. Snow fell leisurely outside the hotel room's window. "We just finished combing Wilcox and Bassinger's hotel rooms and found out both had player cards for various casinos. We were hoping..."

 _-"There was nothing at McMahan's motel room except a nearly empty suitcase, a cell phone, and a wallet containing McMahan's ID and cash." Hotch replied._

" _Going by what we found and what the head housekeeper said, this motel room was set up by the unsub to prevent McMahan from being reported missing. It was booked for two weeks, thirteen days in advance."-_

"That doesn't make sense. If the unsub wanted to conceal McMahan's abduction and mutilation, why not hide his dismembered genitalia rather than staple it to a tree in a local park? The unsub made no effort to conceal any of the dismembered body parts of his victims. It seemed like he was actually trying to flaunt some of them."

 _-"The unsub probably knew McMahan. Enough to know about the rape charge. And to make an effort to conceal where McMahan really was abducted from."_

" _The unsub may have even lured McMahan here specifically. Meaning McMahan was his target all along." Rossi managed before being interrupted by a coughing fit.-_

"You okay –?"

"Are you all right?" Cam interjected the same time as Morgan, both of them concerned for the older agent.

 _-"I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle." Rossi replied after curtailing his cough, bemusement in his tone. "I'll take some medicine just in case. Don't worry."-_

Morgan smiled a bit hearing Hotch saying something about making sure Rossi took some medicine, and that they couldn't afford more agents to come down sick at the moment. He glanced at Cam, noticing her furrowed brow and how her eyes shifted from the snow falling outside then back to the cellphone he held.

"You should get the medicine soon, since it's snowing and the roads tend to get icy at night."

 _-"Don't worry. I'll be fine."-_


	3. Chapter 3

Time's Sublimest Target

 _Chapter 3_

Next Morning:

Garcia sat in her comfy desk chair, her laptop on her lap and a cup of hot, herbal tea in her hands. Her cold was much better than it'd been the past few days and she was growing bored staying in bed.

' _I wonder how my babies are getting along without me.'_ She took a sip of her tea, debating whether to call Morgan or the other BAU members. Finishing another sip of tea before placing it down beside her on the table, Garcia picked up her phone and dialed Morgan.

 _-"Hello, Baby girl." Morgan answered after around three rings, his tone a bit surprised but relieved.-_

"Hello sugar. I was just calling to lend my expertise." Garcia replied, her voice taking on the flirtatious tone it always had when talking to Morgan.

 _-"You sound much better than two days ago."-_

"I feel much better. How is my brown sugar doing? Anything moi can help with?"

 _-"Actually, yeah there is.' Morgan began. 'We're trying to identify a connection between the unsub and the three identified victims. So far two of them may have visited the local casinos, but since there's a severe snowstorm here we haven't been able to visit the casinos to investigate."-_

"Gotcha, give me their names and I'll see what I can find." Garcia replied, a smile in her voice. Three days had been too long to lie around in bed.

 _-"You're a lifesaver, Garcia." Morgan paused a second before reading off the names and known information about the victim. "Also, check to see if any other patrons of the same casinos have been reported missing. We have close to twenty victims but only know the identities of the three I just mentioned. Focus on those who traveled from out of state."-_

"….that isn't going to be easy. Do you know how many people visit casinos every day? A lot. Like a lot, a lot." Garcia said, though her fingers were already working their magic on the laptop keyboard. She paused when Morgan muttered something about how Reid would be able to recite the percentage of people who visited casinos each day if he was around. "What? Reid isn't with you guys? I thought he would be…."

 _-"He came down with a cold yesterday morning, baby girl." Morgan answered. "JJ's still out sick as well."-_

"Wait, since Prentiss doesn't get back from vacation for three more days, it's just you, Hotch and Rossi working this case?" Garcia stared at the cell phone, flabbergasted at the bad luck of a cold affecting so many of their family.

 _-"Strauss called in another agent to help us out on the case, so there's four of us working." Morgan paused. "Five now, since you're back in play."-_

"So who is this agent? Is it someone we worked with before?"

 _-"…." Morgan was quiet for a few seconds longer than Garcia expected. "No, she's new. She only started in the Bureau a few years ago."-_

"Does she have a name?" Garcia prompted after Morgan failed to elaborate.

 _-"Camille Fitzgerald. She was called in because she was in the area and is a local."-_

"Your tone of voice says there's more to it than that. What is this agent Fitzgerald like?" Garcia asked, concerned.

 _-"It's just….I don't know what to think. According to Hotch, Fitzgerald's team died sixteen months ago while pursuing a suspect." Morgan paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "This suspect was apparently her brother."-_

"Oh god, that's….do you think she had anything to do with their deaths?"

 _-"I didn't get the sense of anything like that from her, but from what Hotch said on the jet ride here, Fitzgerald was placed on this case with us so we can profile her." Morgan replied after sighing, the next moment recalling Rossi's reaction to Cam when they met each other earlier. He was about to say something else when Garcia interrupted.-_

"Oh! There's a hit on one of the victims. It seems Bassinger's bank card was just used three hours ago, at an ATM." Garcia read over the information on the screen. "Whoever used his card cleared out his account."

0

Staring into the mirror, her face and eyes moist from the water she'd splashed on it, Cam flicked the rubber-band against her wrist. She breathed repetitively in and out, like mantra to calm her thoughts.

She had awakened abruptly mere minutes ago, her sleep interrupted by a dream in which she had to identify the bodies of her previous team members. It had been so vivid, like a memory but with that dream-like quality that made it all bizarre. Unreal.

She'd had many similar dreams over the past year, some in which her team was alive and others where they were missing. It always ended with her waking up and not remembering at first that her team was dead.

This time it was worse. Instead of it being a nightmare about her team only, which she'd started getting used to, this time the BAU members she'd just met were also in it. It was them she had to identify.

Cam swallowed, and held onto the sink until her knuckles turned a bloodless white. Her teeth bit down into her lip in and effort to steady her hearty and her thoughts.

"It was a dream. A dream." She repeated the mantra under her breath. "He's not here….he…."

Opening her eyes which she hadn't realized she'd shut, Cam scoffed at her own utterance. It couldn't be proven one way or the other that her brother wasn't around, that he hadn't followed her. She hadn't seen him since she was six and he was five, furthermore all the memories she had of him or her life before she turned eleven were nothing more than splotches and blurs.

The clearest memory she had was actually of her being found hiding in a cabinet. It had been during a police raid on a suspected kidnapper's property. And it had been the first time she met Rossi.

"Fitzgerald?" Morgan's voice came after the sharp knock on the hotel room floor; both sound causing her to jump. "Are you awake?"

"I'll be right there." Cam called out, drying her face with a hand towel. Another knock at the door suggested her voice hadn't been loud enough to reach across the room. Grimacing but not saying anything more, she went to the door and opened it.

"You are awake." Was the first thing Morgan said when she opened the door. "Good, we might have a new lead."

"Okay…it's snowing pretty heavily still, so unless this lead is nearby…."

"It is. Garcia – our tech analyst – was able to find out the possible identity of another of the unsub's victims. Mitchell Hayes. He booked a room at this hotel two weeks ago but after the first few days he didn't return nor checked out of his room."

Cam blinked, surprised as well as impressed.

"What's his room number?" She asked, grabbing the key card to her room as well as her cell phone before exiting. A glance at Morgan's hands showed that he had already gotten the key card to Hayes' room from the check-in desk.

"329, two floors down. Hotel management kept his room as it was since Hayes paid for the room in advance until tomorrow." Morgan explained, the two of them heading for the elevators.

"How do we know this person is a possible victim and not just run off some where?" Cam asked as they walked, her mind lulling over the information. A welcomed respite against the lingering threads of her nightmare.

"Garcia was able to find that since the first day Hayes didn't return to his hotel room, he didn't use any of his bank or credit cards. Despite using them constantly before then. That was until early this morning when someone cleared out his account along with Bassinger's. Both were cleared at the same bank."

"….sounds like a lead." Cam replied, getting into the elevator. Morgan followed, noting how the female agent gripped the bar at the back of the elevator. He didn't say anything about it however. Cam was about to say something but stopped, instead changing to a question. "Garcia is the name of one of your team who was out sick, isn't it? When Strauss called me in, she mentioned two of your team were out sick."

"Yes, well. Garcia called me around 40 minutes ago, feeling better enough to work. She'll be helping our investigation from Quantico now."

The elevator dinged their floor before Cam responded, tensing up right before the elevator stopped. She relaxed just as quickly.

"There were only three of your team when we met this morning. So there's only five of you total? I thought…."

Morgan quickly explained that Reid was also out sick, having become so right before they left for this case, and that Prentiss was on leave in Europe. Thus making their full team consist of seven people.

0

Reid awoke to the sound of his doorbell. His sinuses felt stuffed but his head was no longer pounding. He coughed as he sat up and put on a robe over his pajamas. The coughing made his sore throat more noticeable.

His doorbell rung again, this time followed by Garcia's voice asking him if he was awake. Enthused at the familiar voice, he headed directly to his door.

"Hello, Garcia." Reid greeted after opening the door. He noted the bag of goodies she held and the one she'd placed beside his door. He was about to say something when he felt a coughing fit coming on. Quickly he turned so his face was behind the door when the coughing fit hit, so as not to cough on Garcia.

"Aw, you poor thing." Garcia spoke, concern adorning her countenance. "Are you all right? Do you have a fever? Morgan told me you came down sick yesterday."

"I'm fine, Garcia." Reid managed, clearing his throat a few times to stave off coughing. "What about your cold?"

"Oh, I'm all better." Garcia reassured him, before picking up the gift bag she had placed down to ring the doorbell. "I brought over some healthy goodies to help with your cold."

"Ah, thanks." Reid replied, taking the bags from Garcia. "Both of these?"

Garcia nodded. "There's various herbal teas and medicines as well as homemade soups so you can eat healthy without needing to worry about cooking much. Just heat them up."

Reid was about to say she didn't need to bring over all this, but instead he simply said thank you. Yesterday, after talking to Morgan and Hotch, he'd pretty much slept the whole day. Too lethargic to feel like eating.

"Thanks, Garcia." Reid took the bags and placed them on a nearby table. He briefly wondered if he should invite Garcia in or if he should keep her out so that she didn't risk reinfection. It was possible, especially if his cold was one he caught from someone else and not the one Garcia had just recovered from. "Uh…um, are you going in to help on the current case?"

"I'm on my way in now. I'm going to stop by JJ's and check in on her and Henry. Then it's off to work." Garcia replied, getting ready to leave.

"JJ's still sick?"

"I'm going over to check, but I think she was feeling better, but Bill caught her cold so she needed to stay home to take care of Henry."

"I…." Reid started, but was cut off by another coughing fit. "Sorry. Is Hen…." He coughed again, after which Garcia insisted he return to bed to rest.

"Back to bed. And take some medicine. I'll call you about Henry and JJ after I drop their get well baskets off."

Reid complied with the order, knowing that in his state he wouldn't be able to effectively protest against Garcia.


	4. Chapter 4

**Time's Sublimest Target**

 **Chapter Four**

Garcia sat on her office chair at BAU headquarters, continuing the search she'd started at home the previous night. It hadn't taken her long to check on JJ and Henry, text Reid about them – that both were feeling better – and drive to work.

She felt great being back in her work-space, though a bit lonely since she wasn't in Buffalo with the team. Nor could she travel there any time soon – snowstorms had grounded all flights to and from the area. Further, it seemed there was a potential blizzard warning in effect for the area.

"Oh, my babies." Garcia fretted, wondering if there was anything more she could do, and hoping that the blizzard would turn into only a small snowfall. She further felt curious about the new agent Camille Fitzgerald. Even if she was filling in only temporarily, Garcia couldn't help but wonder about her. Especially after what she'd heard from Morgan.

"Let's see what you have..." Garcia muttered as she started the search on Fitzgerald. Within moments she found the files she sought – the files about the incident that killed Fitzgerald's team as well as information on Fitzgerald's career in the Bureau. Moments into reading, Garcia found herself saddened, horrified, and impressed.

Barely seven months after starting at the Bureau with her team in Los Angeles, Camille Fitzgerald had been injured critically by an unsub and hadn't been able to return fully to the field until thirteen months before her team's fatal accident.

"Oh sweetie..." Garcia whispered, reading about the incident sixteen months ago. While persuing a lead on their unsub, the vehicle they were in was involved in a fatal crash. While passing through an intersection an intoxicated driver had driven through the red light and into their van. There had been enough alcohol in the other driver's car to catch fire to the car shortly after impact.

Garcia's eyes watered, reading about the incident while her brain struggled to understand why Cam was under any suspicion in the first place. Her brother may have been the suspected unsub at the time, but from what Garcia read of the reports and the Psych eval Cam was required to take after the incident, Cam hadn't been informed of the identity of her team's suspected unsub.

The only suspicious thing was that Cam's team leader, Ryan Jacobs, had taken her off the case. Though a brief glance over the unsub's victims was all that was needed to figure out why. Cam matched the unsub's type. Garcia grimaced, briefly skimming through the information on the case. She quickly closed out of the files, the graphic details of the murders not something she wanted to know.

Her phone rang.

"Penelope Garcia here." She answered.

 _-'Hello, baby girl. I need you to work some more of your magic.' Morgan spoke. 'We've combed Mitchell Hayes' hotel room and have discovered a slew of ID cards belonging to different people. Seventeen in fact. Fitzgerald's emailing you the list of names. See if any of them have been reported missing or have traveled to western New York recently.'-_

"Ask and you shall receive." Garcia replied, checking her inbox for the email. It took only a few moments before it showed up. She was about to hang up when Morgan interrupted.

 _-'About the other thing we talked about last night. Did you find anything?' Morgan's voice lowered in volume as he spoke.-_

"Yes. It's very sad but confusing." Garcia said, typing up the search parameters for the names in the email. "Fitzgerald's team died in a traffic accident during their last case. The only reason Fitzgerald wasn't as well was because she was taken off the case that same day."

 _-'You're sure it was an accident?'-_

"That's what the reports say. A drunk driver ran a red light, and swerved into their van, according to witness reports."

 _-'What about the unsub they were investigating? Fitzgerald's brother?' Morgan asked, glancing behind him to check if Cam was still checking the ID's across the room.-_

"Very little on his identity actually. Jacobs – the agent in charge of the investigation – wrote in the name 'Atty', but nothing else." Garcia replied after reopening the file but staying clear of the graphic bits.

 _-'That doesn't make sense, if there wasn't any info identifying the unsub, how did they know it was Fitzgerald's brother? Why was she taken off the case in the first place?'-_

"That second question I can answer – all the unsub's victims were women in their early twenties, with fair skin and auburn hair."

 _-'...' Morgan took in the information, inhaling. 'She matched his type...' He paused, still confused. 'If she wasn't taken off the case because her brother was a suspect, why is she under suspicion now?'-_

"Well, your answ...oh." Garcia interrupted herself as she read more of the report on that case. "Apparently the same day her team died, Fitzgerald received a sympathy card from the unsub. It was signed 'Atty'. And..." Garcia continued reading the notes appended to the case files after it transferred to another team. "Fitzgerald herself told the agents who took over the case that 'Atty' was her brother's nickname."

0

Cam shifted through the lot of ID cards while Morgan shifted toward the far end of the hotel room, phone to his ear. His voice lowered with each step, until it was a near whisper.

Cam's jaw grew taut.

'Here it goes again.' She thought, her senses focused on the secretive conversation Morgan was having on the phone, though she tried to focus them on the IDs. She knew curiosity – if not suspicion – would take hold of those she worked with. It happened with every section she worked with since last year. Despite being cleared of all involvement, there was always that nagging suspicion because of her brother.

Internal Affairs had questioned her extensively about her brother after her team's fatal accident. They had some reservations about a few of her responses – namely her total lack of recall on any information about her brother. It wasn't her fault that her memory from before she turned eleven was a large blur, nor that every now and then a splash of her childhood would become clear enough to remember.

Childhood memories simply turned up randomly in her thoughts. That was what happened with her brother – for years he was a blurred face in her dreams. No identity. Then she remembered his nickname and that he was her brother. That was all.

She unconsciously twisted and pulled at the rubber-band around her wrist. Enough that it broke, snapping against her fingers.

"Fitzgerald?" Morgan turned toward her at either the sound of the rubber-band slapping against her skin or her soft curse at the sting it caused. He pressed the end call button on his cell, noticing the rubber-band and the way Cam rubbed her wrist and fingers. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Cam replied, picking up the broken rubber-band. "Did Garcia find out anything on the list of names yet?"

Morgan debated whether to call Cam out on her answer – she wasn't 'fine'. "Garcia found out all those names belong to people who've traveled to western New York within the past three months."

"...the rest of the unsub's victims?"

"That seems very likely. Which means our unsub likely used this room at some point."

"Could it be Mitchell Hayes? Or is Hayes a possible victim?"

"We should meet up with Hotch and Rossi, find out what they learned. Either of those cases is possible." Morgan replied, his fingers already dialing.

0

"Yes. All right. We'll be there in around forty minutes." Hotch spoke into the phone, hanging up shortly after. Slipping the cell into his pocket, he sat down onto the driver seat of the black SUV. "That was Morgan. Apparently he and Fitzgerald found a stash of ID and debit cards in Mitchell Hayes' hotel room. The preliminary search Garcia did on the names revealed that all those cards belong to people who traveled to western New York in the past three months." He said to Rossi, who sat in the front passenger-seat.

"That could be our unsub." Rossi replied, mulling over his thoughts as Hotch started up the vehicle. It took only a glance for him to realize that there was something more that Hotch wanted to ask. "What is it?"

"...have you met Fitzgerald before this case? I noticed you seemed to recognize her since we all met at the Station." Hotch asked, paying close attention to the roads though he waited for an answer. "I'm asking because you didn't mention anything on the jet."

"..." Rossi mulled over what to say, sucking on a cough drop. His cold was better after a night's rest and a dose of cold medicine, but he still had a slight cough. "I didn't recognize her by name. Not until I saw her did I know who she was."

Hotch, eyes still on the road, waited for the other agent to elaborate. When Rossi didn't, Hotch prodded with another question. "You didn't know Fitzgerald by name?"

"She was placed into protective custody after we met and given a new name and home by the Bureau." Rossi replied, observing the surroundings outside the windshield. "Even if she hadn't, she couldn't remember much beyond barely a year before she was found."

"...she had been abducted?" Hotch asked, something about what Rossi said familiar.

Rossi made something that sounded like a wry laugh. "If she had been, her parents failed to report it."

"...wait." Hotch began, recalling a case from thirteen years ago. One that gotten solved just before the BAU had been called in. "There was a case thirteen years ago that resulted in a raid on a drug and human trafficking ring...the key witness was an unidentified minor discovered during the first raid. That was..."

"Yep. That was Fitzgerald." Rossi interjected, his thoughts on thirteen years prior and the circumstances that led to the first raid. His mouth grew taut.

Hotch kept his eyes on the road, managing only glances at his friend and team mate. Though it now made more sense – why Strauss wanted Fitzgerald profiled by them despite being cleared by Internal Affairs. Fitzgerald had been the key witness to that case and resulting trial. If anything happened to put Fitzgerald or her testimony in question, many of those convicted could use it to appeal the verdict. He mentally sighed. The next moment furrowing his brow.

"...Fitzgerald's parents didn't report her missing?" Hotch asked.

"Nope. No one did." Rossi replied.


	5. Chapter 5

**Time's Sublimest Target**

 **Chapter 5:**

Cam stared out the window, her brow knitting at the falling snow. The ground outside was an immaculate white, mirroring the clouds above, and the snow fluttering down incessant.

"...Fitzgerald?" Morgan repeated her name, having just ended his call with Hotch. He approached her, concerned by her expression as well as how she didn't seem to hear him. "Fitz..."

"Yeah?" She glowered at Morgan's faint reflection in the window before turning around to face him. Her eyes narrowed.

"Okay..." Morgan pulled back, surprised at the stinging tone the younger agent used. Though she hadn't said much, just one word, he sensed an incredible amount of hostility in it. It threw him off for a moment. "I know we just met, and neither of us knows the other much yet, but what's with the hostility?"

Cam simply stared at him, lips tightly pressed together. The nightmare she had flashing through her thoughts. "...nothing."

Morgan cocked an eyebrow, about to refute her answer, but instead he just shook his head. "...Hotch and Rossi are forty minutes away, and it doesn't seem like the snow's going to let up any time soon, so we should check around the hotel to see if anyone saw the unsub or any of his victims."

"Fine." Cam shrugged and passed by the older agent, her lips pursed. She stopped briefly however, just before entering the hallway. "...if you want to know about me, I'd rather you ask me, and not have some techie comb through my files while I'm in the same room."

Morgan jerked back, his eyes widening at the venom in the younger agent's tone. Before he could think of a response, the younger agent was already by the elevators, not bothering to wait for him.

 _'Wow...'_ He shook his head, not knowing if he could deal with this agent. Though, he realized quickly, that she was perfectly right to feel upset. He had done exactly what she'd just accused him of: cyber spying on her past instead of asking her directly. His only excuse was that he hadn't thought she'd been close enough to overhear his conversation with Garcia. It occurred to him just then that he was likely not the only agent that Cam had worked with since the incident that killed her team, who'd viewed her with mistrust.

"Damn." Morgan headed toward the next elevator, after noting what floor Cam's seemed to be heading to.

0

 _'Why did I say that?'_ Cam grumbled to herself, immediately regretting snapping at the agent she'd just met the day before. Her only excuse was that she was tired of dealing with other agents. That she simply didn't want to be placed on another team.

She sighed and closed her eyes, thinking. Her team, and especially her team leader Jacobs, would be incredibly disappointed in her if they could see her. If they were still around...

"Hey, why so glum? A pretty face like yours shouldn't be so depressed." A man spoke, forcing her out of her thoughts. The stranger, dressed in faded blue jeans and a knitted, charcoal gray turtle neck sweater, had been standing in the back corner of the elevator. She'd barely noticed him when she'd gotten on.

Cam shook her head, lips held in a terse smile. Her eyes swept over the stranger, taking in his clean-cut, tawny hair and his rigid jaw covered by newly grown stubble. She tensed as he stared down at her, his height measuring almost a foot taller and a half than her.

"Interesting eyes." The stranger mumbled, the next second sucking in a breath as though in pain. He placed a hand on his thigh, grimacing.

"...are you all right?" Cam asked after a second, her eyes darting to the thigh the man clenched with his hand. She blinked, not sure if the man was injured or if she was mistaken about the hiss of pain he gave. It was only by chance that she glanced further down his legs. The pant leg of his left calf had pulled up a bit when the stranger grasped his thigh, revealing a white bandage.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" The stranger mumbled, moving closer to Cam. "You checked into the hotel yesterday, right? Yeah..." He clicked his tongue, his eyes seeming to pierce into the young woman with how intently he was staring at her.

"What happened to your leg?" Cam asked, tensing up as the man closed what little space there was between them. She instinctively reached for her sidearm, forgetting that she didn't have it, that she hadn't brought it with her on her trip.

"That guy who was with you, he asked the front desk about Mitchell Hayes' room..." The stranger continued to mumble, though in a goading sort of tone. He gave a curt laugh, closing the space between them completely at the same moment he grabbed Cam's wrist.

Cam glared at the man, her heart thumping beneath her ribcage. Her mind was completely void of words, the sensation of the man's hand gripping her wrist so tightly sickened her. It erased everything from her thoughts, all her training.

 _-"Come here, that's right...good girl..."-_

She trembled, the flashback as sudden as it was brief, though even in its brevity it managed to overwhelm her. She barely noted the elevator stopping, having reached the lobby area, or the ding as the doors opened. What she did notice was the light and openness of the lobby, her mind screaming at her to run into it. To get away.

She pulled, trying to wrench her wrist from the stranger's grip.

"Where you going, my odd-eye doll?" The stranger purred, pulling her against him. It was then that Cam noticed the knife in his other hand, catching its metallic gleam out of the corner of her eye.

"Let...let go..." Cam swallowed, her eyes widening on the knife.

"Oh, those eyes of yours...so exquisite..." The stranger purred, hitting the close door button on the elevator with his elbow. He next pressed the knife against Cam's side, hissing at her to press the button for the basement level.

0

Morgan's eyes darted around the lobby as soon as he exited his elevator, expecting to see Cam. Instead all that greeted him was an empty lobby. He quickly locked on the elevator that the younger agent should've exited from, his muscles tensing when he heard the sound of it moving.

'What the...' He briefly wondered if the other agent was playing games or otherwise being petty to spite him. Perhaps deciding to avoid him just to mess with him. He quickly dismissed that however, since if Cam had been that childish she would've been reprimanded for it a lot, if not fired.

He took out his phone, to call Cam's, just to make sure she hadn't reached the lobby sooner than he thought and decided to head out. His eyes narrowed when he noticed that the elevator Cam had been on, showed its destination as going down, toward the basement.

He pressed the call button on his phone, dialing Cam. His eyes widened, his gut shouting at him the moment the call cut out, in mid-ring. Yet instead of going to voicemail, he got a number not in service message, at the very moment that the elevator reached the lower basement.

"What the..." Morgan immediately became alarmed, his first thought to return to the elevator he'd exited, but he realized quickly that it was already heading to a higher floor. He cursed, then hurried toward the first employee he saw. The one manning the check in desk, the same one who'd given him the keycard to Hayes' room. "Hey! Hey, I need to check the basement."

"Sir? What?" The employee asked, the next second recognizing Morgan as the FBI agent he'd given Hayes' room keycard to. "The basement's closed for renovations, why do you need to see it?" The employee mumbled, but froze once he noticed the display above the elevator indicating it was on the lower basement level.

"Why? Someone just went down there, and an agent might be with them." Morgan snapped, the feeling in his gut worsening at the mention of the basement being closed.

"That's...how? The elevators require a key to go to the basement levels..." The employee muttered, confused, his eyes still focused on the elevator display.

"Where's the stairs to the basement?" Morgan demanded, the next second dialing up Hotch even as he followed the employee toward the hotel basement door.

0

The stranger whistled as he shoved Cam out of the elevator once the doors opened. He didn't seem to care how his pushing her while still holding firmly onto her wrist, caused Cam to stumble. Her arm twisting a little as she fell to her knees.

"Get up, odd-eyes." He demanded, pulling her arm to force her to stand back up. His eyes narrowed, a scowl on his face as Cam refused. Instead of even attempting to stand up, she remained on the basement floor just outside of the elevator. "Get up."

Cam bit into her lip, the pain from that and her wrist pulling her back from a flashback. She glared at the stranger's leg, the edge of the bandage visable just below his pant cuff. Her arm was still being pulled by the man, but the knife was no longer pressed against her.

"You..." The stranger started to growl, only for it to suddenly turn into a yowl of pain. Cam, having taken the opportunity, smashed her palm right into the bandaged part of his leg. Hard enough that he let go of her wrist, yowling and swearing. "You f-king bitch!"

Cam got to her feet, hurrying away. Or at least trying to. It wasn't long before the stranger lunged at her, ignoring his pain long enough to slash at her. Hitting her thigh and forearm.

"Ahh!" Cam gasped, kicking at the stranger. Her sharp cry of pain echoing in the basement. She continued to kick at the man, attempting to hit his injured leg again. Anything to buy an opportunity to escape.

"Fitzgerald?!"

She heard someone call out, just as her kicks at the stranger grew weaker. The cuts that the stranger made bled copiously, drenching her pants. Her eyes fluttered shut, unable to remain open even as the sound of a gunshot rang through the basement.

0

 _ **A/N:** This likely seems rushed/not fleshed out as much, which is right. I started this fic a while ago, and while I want to attempt to complete it, I don't have as much inspiration as when I started it. I'm working on it now since Cam is going to have a part in My Life Had Stood, so I want to use this fic to give a bit if her backstory._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Since I've decided on including Cam Fitzgerald in My Life Had Stood (which takes place after this), I'm going to work on continuing/finishing this fic to lend more back story to her character. Whether I finish this fic before starting to post part two of My Life Had Stood is undecided at this point.**

* * *

 **Time's Sublimest Target**

 **Chapter 6:**

 _'Shit.'_ Morgan thought, kneeling beside Cam as he applied pressure to her wounded leg. The amount of blood seeping from both gashes and the fact that Cam had loss consciousness both hindered him from chasing the man who'd assaulted the younger agent. Though he was certain that his bullet managed to hit the stranger, he didn't know if it'd be enough to stop the man from escaping. If the stairs behind him were the only way out, besides the elevator, then it was good since the stranger was cornered.

But if there was another exit from the basement...

He grimaced, trying his phone and hoping to get a signal.

0

A few hours later:

"Calm down. Calm down." He elucidated into the phone, adding emphasis to the second calm. The voice on the other end was hurried, nearly wild from emotion. Fear? Desire? Did it matter? He licked his thin lips, his own eyes obscured by the shadow cast by the hoodie he wore.

He looked out at the snow. The storm from the previous night had ended, the streets below being cleared efficiently by the plowmen.

 _-"They saw my face. That odd-eyed vixen and the cop, or whatever he was." The man on the other end spoke, his voice gruff. He hissed a second in pain. "A bullet nipped me in the shoulder. I barely managed to get away through the old, unused service entrance."-_

Barely paying attention to the other man, the first man fiddled with a broken charm bracelet. His eyes widened a sliver as the other's words penetrated his ears. "...'odd-eyed'?"

 _-"Yeah, one blue, one green." The man paused, the sound of him licking his lips in arousal could almost be heard over the phone. "...I wanted those eyes of hers. If only that cop or whatever he was hadn't shown up..."-_

The first man glowered as he listened, his eyes growing more narrow with each word the second spoke. "This was at the hotel where I told you to leave those ID cards?"

 _-"Yes, the snowstorm kept me from leaving last night, so I stood an extra night." The second man continued, oblivious to the first's growing anger. He closed his eyes, his thoughts and voice brewing with arousal. "I wonder if you could collect her eyes for me. There was such blood from the gashes I gave her, I doubt she'd survive. Even if she did, it'll be easy for you to get access to her."-_

The first man tightened his grip around the charm bracelet, his knuckles white from the pressure. His lips twisted in scorn, and he nearly growled but then stopped himself.

"Arthur, if your face was seen, you do realize the plan to frame Mitchell Hayes could very well end up being useless?" He crooned, his voice the antithesis of his expression. He smiled - a cold twisting of his lips at the other man's responding curse. "...don't worry. Just lay low for a few days while I gauge the situation as it stands."

Not waiting for a reply, he pressed the end button. His fist still squeezed around the charm bracelet, which bit into his palm. Not that he noticed it, his eyes narrowed under his hoodie. He scowled out the window at the snow covered city.

0

"Fitzgerald's going to be fine, Morgan." Rossi said to a furious looking Morgan. Cam, having been taken to the hospital, was still unconscious but would live according to the medical personnel. It had been close though, and had Morgan not provided first aid as he had...

Morgan glowered, too frustrated to be relieved. Despite Cam being a new and only temporary agent on the team, and despite what he thought about her personality, he had been partnered with her.

"...What happened?" Rossi asked after a moment, curious. Though Morgan had explained the gist of what had happened while the doctors worked on Cam's wounds, he hadn't specified why the younger agent had been on the elevator alone. At least until her attacker got on.

Before Morgan could answer, Hotch entered the area and approached. He had been talking to the doctors concerning Cam, and also making a few calls. At least one of which hadn't been pleasant, going by the deeper than normal frown on the unit chief's face. "We need to talk."

Hotch gestured toward an unused room, and waiting for both of the other men to enter.

"Hotch? What...?"

"I need to know what happened. How did you and agent Fitzgerald end up on separate elevators?" Hotch asked, barely waiting a second after the door clicked shut behind him.

"Hotch, what..." Morgan stared at the other man, eyebrows raised at the way the unit chief asked the question.

At first he thought the other man seemed to be blaming him for what happened, but a glance at Hotch's face told him otherwise. There was anger under the unit chief's stoic glare, but Morgan also noticed a hint of what seemed like worry with the anger.

"...we had a disagreement and Fitzgerald stormed off." Morgan replied, deciding not to lay all the blame on the younger agent.

"A disagreement? Was it about the case?" Hotch asked, studying Morgan as the other man shook his head but didn't elaborate. He took in a breath and crossed his arms. "If it wasn't about the case, then what was it about?"

Morgan stared at the other man, thrown off by the question. Or rather how Hotch seemed adamant to get an answer. It wasn't something he'd expected; He'd expected that he'd be questioned about what had happened and what he saw. Not something that had little relevance to Cam being attacked.

"Morgan, I need to know if Fitzgerald actually stormed off because of this disagreement you had or if she used it as an excuse to do so." Hotch elaborated.

"Why would she..."

"You don't seriously think Cam was expecting to be attacked." Rossi interrupted, shaking his head at the thought. "That kid's a fighter. Her testimony helped put away a number of drug and human traffickers, as well as their customers. She wouldn't just walk into danger knowingly."

"I understand, but..." Hotch paused. "I just got done talking to Strauss and the director. Apparently one of the men Fitzgerald testified against hired a hitman to find and kill her."

"What?!"

"Strauss couldn't have mentioned any of this before?"

"There's no evidence that the hitman hired is even in the country. Or that he even figured out who she is or where she is." Hotch explained, though what the higher ups had told him didn't reassure him. Cam had been attacked, and until they knew by who and why, she was in danger. Not just her - he, Morgan and Rossi were also potentially in danger.

"It's unlikely the suspect that attacked Cam was a hitman, since a professional would scope out his victim ahead of time and plan accordingly. Unless he was a amateur, the man who stabbed her was someone else." Rossi mulled over a few ideas, rubbing his chin as he thought.

"...it could've been our unsub." Morgan piped up. "Think about it, all those ID cards were left in Hayes' hotel room by someone. Though we don't know exactly when they were left, it could have been as recent as the night before we searched the room."

"If it was last night, or anytime yesterday evening, the snowstorm would've made it dangerous or even impossible for the unsub to leave the hotel until today. Which means there's a chance he may have noticed you and Fitzgerald entering Hayes' room, and guessed you were investigating." Hotch replied, his face stoic. He crossed his arms, thinking about the younger agent. "Or Fitzgerald may have noticed something off about the man in the elevator, and he attacked her. In either case, the unsub will likely be anxious on knowing if Fitzgerald survived or not."

"You think he'll come to the hospital?"

"...He'll have to, to make sure Fitzgerald can't recognize him. He also was likely wounded by Morgan's shot. Not to mention the possibility that he cut a piece of his own skin off to make us see him as a victim if we found him."

"...It doesn't fit." Rossi mumbled, brow furrowed. "The unsub has enough planning foresight to injure himself as a potential backup plan to throw us off, and enough smarts to keep leaving tip money for the hotel housekeeper so no one is suspicious about not seeing McMahan. And it's unlikely he'll simply leave all those ID cards in a room that could be traced back to himself." The other two agents nodded their heads in agreement with Rossi, but didn't interrupt. It was clear to both that the elder agent wasn't finished. "...would such an unsub be so rash to attack a Federal agent on an elevator, while knowing there's another agent nearby?"

"You're right, that doesn't fit. The unsub is a planner, and wouldn't have attacked Fitzgerald. He'd have been assured of his plan enough that he wouldn't have needed to risk attacking her." Hotch replied, pausing a moment. "Yet he did."

"Or his partner did." Morgan grimaced. "We could be dealing with a team. One unsub makes the plans and the other carries them out."

"Which means two things, a) the unsub who attacked Cam is the doer of the team, and likely attacked her on impulse. And b) the partner is not going to be happy when he finds out." Rossi replied. "The partner is going to want to fix the blunder."

"The question is whether the planner will send the doer to take care of things, or if he'll come to the hospital himself rather than risk his partner screwing up again."

0

The hospital ER was bustling for a cold, snowy mid-January evening. Most of the patients injuries were weather related, and ranged from severe frostbite, ice-caused falls, and burn injuries from mishaps with space heaters. Nothing life-threatening.

His cold eyes scanned the scene quickly before he headed towards one of the nurses.

"Good evening, Michelle." He spoke, the timbre of his voice warm.

"Oh, Dr. Kettlewell, I didn't know you were working today." The nurse replied, surprised by the presence of the caramel-brown haired doctor.

"I wasn't but...Dr. Reynolds phoned me and asked if I could take an extra shift." He paused and smiled, his eyes still scanning the room. "So here I am."

"All right. We are slightly busier than usual." The nurse nodded, smiling faintly as she shifted her attention to a patient who approached.

Kettlewell's lips twitched, his eyes cold though his tone seemed warm as he inquired if there'd been any more-urgent emergency patients brought in earlier.

"Pretty much the same. We did get a stabbing victim brought in earlier though."

"Oh?" His eyes lit with interest, prodding the nurse for more information. Licking his thin lips as she answered, he absorbed the information.


	7. Chapter 7

**Time's Sublimest Target**

 **Chapter 7:**

Dr. Kettlewell stared down at Cam lying on the hospital bed, her eyes closed in unconsciousness. The monitor connected to her showed her vitals were steady, her breathing normal. His slate gray eyes washed over the auburn haired woman's face and body, burning every centimeter of her firm into his memory.

There was greed in his eyes, a desire for possession so strong that he forgot where he was for a moment. His breath hitched at the sight of the bandaged wrapped around the woman's forearm. He glowered at the sight, his greed turning to animalistic anger.

It took all his willpower not to curse, his fist squeezed tightly at his side. Clenched inside his hand was a charm bracelet, the charms poking into his palm. Not enough to break the skin, but close. Taking in a calming breath, he set it down on the small table beside the bed.

He mumbled something while setting it down, his eyes straying back to her face. The click of the door opening drew his attention away, and he quickly schooled his expression. His heart thumped as he turned to face the interloper.

0

"Shit!" Arthur swore, taking a large gulp from a brown whiskey bottle. His leg throbbed and wouldn't stop. It felt like his leg was one fire and being sliced continuously at the same time. He bellowed out a few more curses before taking another few gulps of whiskey.

Once he drained the bottle he threw it across the room, where it shattered on impact. A few beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, his vision blurred from pain and alcohol. He grabbed for his phone and hit speed dial.

 _-...can't come to the phone right now. Leave a message...-_

"Shit!" He hissed, not wanting to leave another message. He barely waited for the beep before shouting. "Tony, where the hell are you?! Something's wrong with my leg, that bitch hit it and now it hurts worse than it did. Fuck!" He cursed, having moved his leg slightly but enough that it sent a pulse of pain through him. "You never said it would be this painful, you damn bastard!"

He chucked the phone across the room, where it joined the broken whiskey bottle. His breath caught as he struggled to endure the pain from his leg, his eyes tearing up from both the pain and a fever.

"Shit. Something's wrong." He mumbled, sucking in a breath. His eyes shifted toward where he'd thrown his phone. He cursed once he saw the broken screen, and the liquid pooling around it. The whiskey bottle he'd thrown just moments before the phone had been empty, but the one before that hadn't. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! Goddammit!"

A plethora of swears escaped his lips, even as the pain overwhelmed him. His vision blurred and darkness swallowed him.

0

Rossi paused, his dark brown eyes lingering over the man across the room. The man wore a white doctor's coat and carried himself like a doctor, but Rossi didn't recognize him. The doctor in charge of Cam was older, while the man before him seemed young enough to have just gotten out of medical school.

"...who are you?" Rossi asked, his eyes narrowing. His hand twitched, inches from his sidearm just in case.

"Dr. Kettlewell." The stranger answered, moving away from Cam's bedside and offering his hand to Rossi. His face plastered with an amiable smile. "I was just checking on the patients on this floor. I apologize for any intrusion, but I was told that one of my patients has been going around bugging other patients. Taking their things, switching their charts. Things like that."

Rossi's eyes widened slightly, unsure whether to believe the other man. He studied the stranger, not as on edge as he was when the man was standing right next to Cam, but still suspicious. "...is there anyone who can confirm that?"

"My name, or why I'm here?" Kettlewell paused, flashing the agent a look that mirrored his own. His eyes lingered briefly on Rossi's sidearm. "Any of the nurses on this floor can confirm either. Mr...?"

"SSA David Rossi." Rossi replied, showing his badge.

"Oh. FBI, huh?" Kettlewell's eyes widened, and he raised an eyebrow. "So why is the FBI here? Some sort of investiga- oh." He flashed an intrigued glance at the agent and then at Cam. His lips twitched, his slate gray eyes glancing over the auburn haired woman. "...So, is she a witness or an agent or...?"

"That's none of your business." Rossi cut off the young doctor mid-sentence, becoming more uncomfortable. Though it was difficult to tell if it was merely dislike for the doctor's unprofessional curiosity or something else. The stranger's manner seemed off, his curiosity not genuine. "And I'll need some proof you are who you say before you leave."

"What? I have a job to do..." Kettlewell replied, reaching out for the door handle only to be blocked by the agent.

"So do I. Now, if you show some ID and one of your co-workers can vouch for your reason to be poking around in rooms not belonging to your patients, then you can be on your way." Rossi eyed Kettlewell, partly expecting the man to refuse or make a fuss. He felt on edge and nearly expected the stranger to run off.

"All right." Kettlewell's lips twitched bemusedly and he handed over his hospital and drivers ID cards. An action that threw Rossi - he had been prepared for more fuss. He grimaced when Kettlewell flagged down one of the orderlies walking through the corridor.

"Yes? Dr. Kettlewell?" The orderly asked as he approached, pausing once he noticed Rossi. "Is this about Fritz? I swear I didn't know the kid was gonna bother anyone."

Kettlewell's lips twitched briefly into a smirk, his eyes gleefully taking in Rossi's surprise. He waited as the agent asked the orderly questions, confirming Dr. Kettlewell's reason for poking around.

"...all right. Thank you for your time." Rossi mumbled, dismissing the orderly. He grimaced, mulling over the ID cards in his hand a few more moments before handing them back to Kettlewell. The doctor then proceeded to leave, barely able to keep a smirk from his lips as he left.

Rossi's eyes narrowed, having just barely caught the smirk. The next moment his attention was drawn towards Cam's hospital bed. It'd been brief but the auburn haired woman had started to show signs of waking up. He quick and quietly made his way to her bedside.

"...Cam. Cam?" Rossi gazed down at the young woman's face, his thoughts drifting back to years ago. When he'd first met her.

She'd been just a child, barely eleven, cowering in the back of a cabinet. Thin and malnourished, with bruises and scratches marring her exposed skin she had huddled in the shadow of the cabinet. Not a word nor sound had escaped her lips, but her eyes spoke volumes. And when he looked into them it'd nearly broke him.

No one, especially not a child, should have that sort of deadened look in their eyes.

Rossi sighed, sitting down next to the hospital bed. The fidgeting that had drawn his attention, making him think Cam was waking up, had subsided. All there was now was the peacefulness on the sleeping agent's face.

"Sleep well, kid." He mumbled, leaning forward in the chair. His lips parted in midst of saying something else but stopped, and remained that way a second or two as another memory struck him. The memory of an eleven year old girl waking up every time a stranger passed her hospital room.

Dark eyes narrowed slightly, he stood up and took out his cell phone. As he dialed a number his gaze shifted to the table beside the bed.

He barely noted Garcia greeting him over the phone and asking him what he needed. His attention was focused on the table - specifically at the object left on it. A simple charm bracelet.

 _-"...hello? Rossi?" Garcia repeated, her voice unsure from the lack of a response.-_

"Sorry, I'm here. There's something I want you to check." Rossi replied, shifting the charm bracelet to view it better. It was the DIY kind, homemade and used what looked like an old chain from a different bracelet as a base. Various mismatched charms and beads had been threaded with the chain, some plastic, some metal.

The hodgepodge of material and shapes wasn't what caught his attention, but rather it was four specific square beads. The kind with letters etched into them, and used to spell words or names.

"...A, t, t, y..." Rossi muttered, reading out the letters etched onto the beads. His brow furrowed, and his phone was close enough to his mouth that the tech analyst overheard.

 _-"Wha..." Garcia drew in a breath, her eyes widening as she recognized the name spelled. Atty. The name of Cam's supposed brother. Hearing Rossi mumble it surprised Garcia - she hadn't mentioned what she'd found about Cam or her previous team to anyone aside from Morgan. "Sir, did Morgan tell you that name or did Cam...?"-_

"...What?" Rossi asked, his attention back on the tech analyst.

 _-"Atty. Cam's brother's nickname." Garcia replied.-_

"Cam's brother..." Rossi tensed, his widened eyes shifting from the charm bracelet to the sleeping agent then to the door. The door through which the stranger - Dr. Kettlewell - had left just a few minutes ago. He drew in a breath, his jaw pulled taut. 'That's why she didn't wake.'

 _-"Sir? What..."-_

"Garcia, look up all you can on a Dr. Anthony Kettlewell. He works at this hospital." Rossi interrupted, while approaching the door and glancing through the small window. His eyes scanned the hall for any sign of Kettlewell or the orderly.

The former was no where to be seen, but the latter he noticed talking with one of the nurses.

Hanging up on Garcia, Rossi exited the room and approached the orderly.

"Hey. I have a few more questions." The senior agent called out to the orderly, whose eyes widened at his approach. It wasn't until he was close enough to hear what the nurse was saying, that Rossi realized why.

"...Fritz, you can't just take an uniform and go around pretending to work here." The nurse chastised the 'orderly', shaking her head in disapproval. "Go back to your room."

"..." The faux-orderly nodded and attempted to dart off, only to be stopped by Rossi. The agent grabbed his arm.

"I believe another talk is in order." Rossi glowered at the other man, who was a patient rather than an employee based on what the nurse had said. "Fritz, is it?"

"I...ah..." Fritz swallowed, wanting to slink away though not actually attempting it. The nurse who he'd been talking to widened her eyes and turned to Rossi.

"Let him go. Who are you? What do you want?" The nurse demanded, her chastising tone morphing into a protective one. She gaped when Rossi showed his FBI credentials. Her eyes widened. "What did Fritz do?"

"...I just need him to clarify what he just told me around ten minutes ago." Rossi replied, letting go of the man's arm. "About Dr. Kettlewell and how a patient of his was messing around in other patients rooms."

Fritz cringed beneath the agent's gaze, his demeanor now far different than it was when Rossi questioned him earlier.

"Kettlewell? Huh." The nurse scoffed, shaking her head. Her reaction piqued Rossi's interest, drawing his attention to her. He suddenly wondered if he'd been tricked by both men, though the ID Kettlewell had shown him did appear authentic. "What patients?"

Rossi tensed. "...he's not a doctor here...?"

"No, he is. He just has the bedside manner of a snake, which makes most people request a different doctor." The nurse replied, partly relieving Rossi who had started to wonder if his cold had somehow interfered with his brain. Or his profiler instincts.

"What does he do? If he's not good with patients, what part of the hospital does he work in?"

"He picks up shifts now and then in the ER, but he mostly works in the morgue."

"The morgue?" Rossi cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by the tidbit. He was about to ask another question when a sharp scream cut through the hall.


End file.
